Monday, 1 June 2015

The Washing Machine (Ruggero Deodato, 1993) DVD Review

“A man, cut up into pieces, and stuffed in there like
soiled linen.” Ruggero Deodato – a name synonymous with one film in
particular: the utterly notorious Cannibal Holocaust – but what of some
of the other highlights from his varied career? His name has also been attached
to the likes of House on the Edge of the Park (a spin on The Last
House on the Left) and Phantom of Death (Basil Exposition
ages disgracefully) … but, like most Italian directors, he also lent his
talents to the world of the giallo film. However, in the case of the
curiously-titled The Washing Machine (aka Vortice Mortale), the
sultry sex appeal of the 1970s had long gone and, in this case, been replaced
by a post-Cold War hangover and pastel track suits...

Click “READ MORE” below to continue the review and see more
screenshots…

“What's happened to the people in this country? They
used to respect our authority.” The Iron Curtain has fallen – political
change has swept the nation – but to the people on the streets, change is
wearily slow in taking effect. Times are tough, citizens must make ends meet
however they can, and sometimes passions run high – extreme measures can be taken.

“Stop being so paranoid, Alexander, not all washing
machines have cut-up corpses inside.” Vida (Katarzyna Figura) is
a ribbon gymnastics tutor by day and a call girl by night, enthralled and
enraged by her lover/pimp-apparent Yuri (Yorgo Voyagis) in equal
measure, and tonight their date has ended badly. She suspects him of cheating (well,
he isn't the most subtle of Casanova wannabes), but his greasy charms are
too much – it's five minutes in and already Deodato is throwing his audience
into a fevered fridge-side fondling … and if that wasn't enough, Vida's sister
Ludmilla (Barbara Ricci) is playing the knicker-flashing,
triangle-chiming (that's not a euphemism) voyeur!

“We could see her watching us, but this only made it
more exciting.” That night however, Ludmilla wanders to the kitchen for
a midnight snack only to find the washing machine playing up – just what could
that crimson fluid spewing out be?! Much to her shock it's Yuri – hacked to
pieces and stuffed into a spin cycle – but even more bizarre than that, when
she awakes the following morning, there's no body to be found.

“Our sister is normal.” Inspector Alexander
Stacev (Philippe Caroit) is the buff, blue-eyed copper on the case – but
what case? There is no body, just a missing scumbag, and three saucy sisters
pleading ignorance and innocence. Is Ludmilla a crazed alcoholic widow like
Vida and Maria (Ilaria Borelli) claim her to be – as well as a
self-professed clairvoyant? Whose version of events is true, is the bureaucratic incompetence of the police department a case of deliberate obfuscation, and how can
Alexander possibly resist the lascivious advances of his three prime suspects?
How indeed!

“Times are tough, seems like everyone has another job
these days.” Drug runners, strip clubs, strangely hands-on lessons in
culture for the blind, finger-eating felines, infidelity, impotence, jealousy,
blackmail, suicide, and suppressed secrets – suffice it to say, The Washing
Machine, written by Luigi Spagnol, boasts a convoluted plot. Touring
through the historic grandeur and no-frills modernity alike of Budapest, the
conflicting and ever-twisted – yet confoundedly intertwined – versions of
events, as told by the sisters, becomes more and more of an obstruction to the
viewer as things proceed.

“You never seen a pair of cymbals before?”
Despite a handful of grisly splashes of gore – including a hatchet-mangled
torso – Deodato's gaze, through Sergio (Cannibal Holocaust)
D'Offizi's lense, is far more interested in the 'clothing optional' cast of
gorgeous ladies. From a handcuffed stairwell romp to the literal tossing of a
salad, the film steams from one boob-and-or-butt-baring bunk-up to another …
and yet, as titillating as it is, there's a seam of curious comedy running
throughout it all. Look no further than the scene where Maria silently has her
way with Alexander in a sculpture museum surrounded by her blind students.
Indeed, at times The Washing Machine can be downright bizarre:
frustrated by Alexander's refusal to pay attention to her (an
out-of-the-blue flash of lingerie at a public pool), she turns up at his
flat crashing a pair of cymbals until he lets her in!

“I think I deserve better.” Shameless Screen
Entertainment's 44th release finally provides a home to a relatively
rare late-period giallo, but the audio/video presentation is a mixed bag at
best. The picture quality is decent, but varied, regularly soft and murky, and
occasionally rather scruffy (as seen in some 'warp' effects from the video era, or the close up of the severed fingers, for example). Print quality aside, the cinematography is –
likewise – a mixed bag: night scenes are well lit, while a night club appears
surprisingly flat. Sound wise, yep it's another mixed bag – the mono track is
intermittently muffled when it comes to dialogue, and many of the sound effects
exhibit an echo, however this seems to be deliberate. Many of the scenes take
place in wide open spaces, or cavernous interiors, so the echo plays up a sense
of the city being a cold and lifeless place.

“Be careful, it's very easy to fall in love with
Maria.” Extras wise this release has little to offer beyond some
production stills provided by Deodato, and the obligatory (but
connoisseur-friendly) 'Shameless Trailer Gallery'. Where this release
shines though, is in its packaging. Designed by Graham Humphreys, the film
comes in a limited edition tin package made to look like – what else – a
washing machine, complete with see-through window. It is, quite possibly,
Shameless' best packaging to date. So, the A/V presentation leaves a fair bit
to be desired, but there are few alternatives out there for this particular
flick – this is as good as you'll get for the time being, but thanks to
Shameless it's no longer a hard-to-find title.

“No! Don't shoot her! She's mine!” Featuring a
bountiful supply of fetching femmes and a good range of location work, The
Washing Machine focuses far more on sex than violence (there's more
bared flesh than you can shake a handful of pre-washed delicates at).
However, as an example of gialli, it's a middling effort where thrills are
sorely lacking, style is inconsistent, and storytelling is overly complex. That
said, in spite of its flaws, Deodato's film is still enjoyably weird – such as
a scene in which a vigorous bit of cavorting results in death by iron …
opinions will vary, but Ruggero certainly had it in for domestic appliances!

About Me

I am a British freelance filmmaker, as well as a writer, movie fanatic, and zombie obsessive. I am the author of "Dug Deep" and the "Celebrityville" series of books, and write for Sleaze Fiend Magazine and Homepage of the Dead. I'm the screenwriter for the upcoming film "For Want of a Nail".
Of the many filmmakers who influence me, some are: Romero, Raimi, Carpenter, Cameron, Fincher, Tarantino, Rodriguez, Kubrick, Boyle, Zombie, Martino, Fulci, Argento, Cronenberg, Marshall, Smith, Nolan, Dominik, Scott, Mann, Hooper, De Palma, Leone, Spielberg and Zemeckis.